Forward, March
by thewrook
Summary: Part II, following Conquest Hindered. Gabrielle is on the run, and the Conqueror is launching a campaign against Sparta. Their relationship remains unresolved, but how long will it be until they meet again, and what will happen when they do?
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Part II of the story that began with Conquest Hindered, and picks up directly where that left off (If you haven't read CH, this one won't make much sense to you!) Gabrielle and Kyros are on the run, and the Conqueror is launching a campaign against Sparta. Their relationship remains unresolved, but how long will it be until they meet again, and what will happen when they do?

**Disclaimers:** Xena, Gabrielle, etc are owned by Rob Tapert and the Ren. Pics people, and I don't profit from the writing of this story in any way. Characters not from the show Xena: Warrior Princess are my own creations.

This incarnation of Xena is known as the Conqueror, so she's a little different than the one we all know. Puppies, rainbows, and cuteness are banned in her domain. Well, not really, but keep in mind that she's done some naughty deeds. She hasn't yet experienced the emotional benefits of heroism and a lovable sidekick - that said, she's not a sadistic torturer either, so don't be afraid!

This story contains subtext/maintext between two women.

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**Chapter One: (Xena's POV)**

I've never been good with emotions. If I were, I'd have seen it all coming; it was in her eyes. The afternoon when I called Gabrielle to my study, there was something off about her and I couldn't place it. Her carriage was the same, and so was the way she spoke—soft and relentless at the same time, bolder than she had any right to be. But her eyes… they were different. I knew fear like an old friend, and I often made companions of anger and greed, but I couldn't put a name to what I saw in Gabrielle's gaze. No one had ever looked at me that way before, but as I stood facing her in the darkness I understood everything with vivid clarity: she'd been meaning to betray me all along. I had pardoned her, given her a second chance at life, and showed her emotions that I'd been guarding for as long as I could remember. The hollowness of these gestures made me angry, but it was the betrayal of trust that hurt, more painful than any cut from a blade. I should have screamed at her or summoned the nearest guards, but when I opened my mouth, all that came out was her name.

"_Gabrielle." _

It was little more than a whisper, a desperate plea. I was begging her. _What for?_ To stop this idiocy, to return to her chamber at once and pretend that a fit of madness had temporarily overtaken her, and then passed. _You can't play this game, Gabrielle. You don't even know the rules, and you'll make enemies of us again. _But she couldn't read my thoughts, and if she heard my voice she didn't acknowledge it. She ran.

My hand clenched around the hilt of my sword and I could hear the blood pounding in my ears as I took two heavy steps after her—but no more. It's funny, but I hardly noticed the boy. This whole mess was for Kyros' benefit, but in that moment he was nothing to me. I only had eyes for Gabrielle's shadow, and it faded, leaving me alone in the dark.

For a time I remained staring at that gloomy spot where she'd disappeared. I felt moisture on my cheeks and thought—ridiculously—that I'd started crying. But it was rain that fell, not tears. I was soaked through to the skin, and the grit beneath my feet had turned to mud while I stood clutching my sword, fingers nearly numb from the tension. When I came out from this reverie I sheathed the blade calmly and made for my chambers. I passed two guardsmen of the night watch, warming their hands by a brazier in the hall. They saluted like good soldiers, but I paid no attention to them. I reached my room and stripped off my wet clothes, exchanging them for a long silk robe. I poured a mug of water, drained it, and hurled it across the room.

"Fuck!" I cursed as it hit the wall. The explosion of ceramic was somehow gratifying, so I picked up a vase and threw that too, watching the shards fly, swearing like an Ionian pirate. The washbasin, an inkwell, and a number of empty scroll tubes followed in quick succession, but the adrenaline faded as quickly as it had come. I sank into my chair and took long breaths until my pulse slowed. Gods, I hated her. At least, I wanted to. I wanted to hunt her down, rage at her, and kill her. But inexplicably, I also wanted her to get away.

In the half-light provided by the candelabra, I surveyed my empty room. It had always been too lavish for my taste, flaunting the wealth of the throne with its tapestries and silks. I had intended to reduce the clutter when I took these chambers for my own, but somehow that never reached the top of my agenda. Now even the air in here felt crowded, and I was overcome by the need to feel the wind on my face and the earth beneath me at night. That's how it was before I became the Conqueror: poorer and simpler. I didn't know anything but the country, the bloodlust, the battles. Now I was caught between the walls of the city, burdened by actualities like power, politics, and wealth.

I waited for sunrise. When it came, so did Atreus.

"Report," I instructed, unmoving, my back rigid in the chair.

"I have grave news, Conqueror." He bowed his head apologetically. Under other circumstances, the term 'grave news' would have sparked my fury. As it was, I already knew what his report would be.

"The boy, Kyros, is missing," Atreus went on cautiously. "His guard was just discovered in the chamber. Says he was incapacitated by another soldier while on watch."

"It was no soldier that clubbed him," I corrected impatiently. "It was Gabrielle."

"What? Gabrielle?" He looked incredulous, and I couldn't blame him. "But the man swears his attacker was in uniform."

"So she was," I confirmed, rising to my feet. "She stole a uniform and she broke the boy out of his cell, right under the nose of your hand-picked guards. Would you care to explain how that happened?"

"I… I couldn't say, Conqueror. I don't know."

"Then you'd better find out, huh?"

"Yes. Of course" My captain was no longer looking at me. He was proud of his rank, and it would shame him that such a security lapse happened under his supervision. Accountability generally diminished with promotion, but in Atreus it flourished. He had risen through the ranks by surviving the early days and showing good judgment, and he was one of a handful of people that I found trustworthy. Of course, such assumptions can be flawed—after all, I had trusted Gabrielle.

"I have two men searching the boy's chamber," Atreus added, "looking for clues to their accomplices, their destination."

"You won't find anything," I said dismissively. "Gabrielle's not foolish, she'll have covered her tracks, or had someone else do it for her."

"We did find this." His voice was suddenly tentative, and he lifted a satchel and extended it toward me. It appeared empty, but I took it from him anyway and pulled open the drawstring. At the bottom was a pile of fine gold hair. My mouth went dry, and I swallowed hastily to cover my surprise.

"Should we mount a search, Conqueror? They can't have gotten far in only a few hours. If we send scouts out within a few leagues of the city-"

"No," I interrupted, dropping the sack with as much indifference as I could muster. "We're marching to war, Captain. I won't squander a whole company of soldiers on some game of hide-and-seek. "

"What about the city guards?"

"They'll be spread thin enough trying to keep order in my absence. They'll remain where they're stationed and do their jobs."

"But Conqueror, the boy-"

"Is not your concern," I warned, in a tone of finality. Kyros was _my_ problem, and a private one. I was the only one who knew who he was, _what_ he was—Gabrielle might have uncovered part of it, but not even the boy knew the whole truth. I had intended for it to remain that way, but now he was out of my hands, and so was his safety.

I bowed my head and massaged my temples with the tips of my fingers. "How long until the army is assembled?"

"The men from Phillipi will be here by nightfall," Atreus assured. "The rest of the host is here and awaiting your command, Conqueror."

"Good. I want to move out tomorrow."

"A day early?"

I nodded. "Gabrielle will take the boy South. They're political fugitives now, so there's nowhere for her to hide him within the realm. Her best hope is to flee somewhere outside of my jurisdiction. With the boy in tow and the illusion of a head start, her progress will be slow. If she's going our way, we'll catch up with her." I didn't know whether I hoped for this or dreaded it, and either way I wasn't even sure I was right. But if my voice betrayed that uncertainty, Atreus didn't seem to notice.

"As you say, Conqueror," he confirmed. "I'll spread the word."

"Good. Dismissed, Captain.

When he was gone I donned a plain shirt beneath a leather jerkin, and a pair of functional trousers. I wanted to survey the troops for myself, so I went down to the stables to find my horse.

Argo whinnied softly when she saw me, tossing her head, and I smiled and brushed my fingertips across her strong shoulder. "It's good to see you too, girl." Riding had somehow become a rarity for me lately. Matters of state kept me to my desk, and even in my spare time if was difficult to ride in a city of stone. The streets were too crowded and the alleyways too narrow. _Gods._ I felt like some fool queen sitting in a tower, drowning myself in silk while the rest of the world experienced life. The war campaign was more than a campaign to me now—it was a lifeline, to keep me from going stir-crazy.

I took my time tacking up Argo, stroking the lean muscle of her body, and apologizing for being so long between visits. When I finally mounted and gathered the reins in my hands, I felt a measure of strength flow through me, and it brought a rare smile to my lips. "All right, girl. Let's go give 'em hell, huh?" And then we were off.

People swayed and parted like waves of long grass as we trotted through the city. Some eyed me warily, others with excitement. _Let them stare_, I thought with an odd sense of satisfaction. _It's the last they'll be seeing of me for a while._ Soon I was through the gates, cantering toward the group of tents that seemed to sprawl for an entire league. The sight was impressive to my eyes—I hoped it was thus to the Spartans, when it arrived at their gates.

"Conqueror!" One of the soldiers hailed me, and I could see from his helm that he was an officer. I brought Argo to a stop and returned the man's salute.

"Captain. What news?"

"The men from Phillipi are approaching. Will you meet them?"

"I will," I consented. The officer led the way on his own mount, and we met the approaching cavalry a few hundred yards from the far side of the camp. Their company was half a century strong, and well-outfitted.

"Soldiers of Phillipi!" I called, turning Argo to ride across the breadth of their column. "Men of the North! Your arrival is well timed. Tonight, you will enjoy the company of your brothers. Tomorrow we march south, toward conquest!"

A roar of approval greeted my words. A few of them took up the chant of my title_, _yelling _Conqueror! Conqueror! _They thrust their swords in the air with each repetition, and the wave of sound grew. Had I any more words, I couldn't have made myself heard above the din. Instead I drew my own blade, and held it aloft in salute as I rode back across the column_. Conqueror_, they responded as one. _Conqueror!_ I indulged in a grim smile.

I returned to the keep in the late afternoon, to pack the few things I would take with me when I rode. My eyes fell upon the sack that Atreus had brought me earlier, the one containing Gabrielle's hair. I would have burned it, if not for the horrible smell it would have created. I could think of no practical way to discard it, so I decided to simply stuff the bag into the bottom of a trunk and let it rot there as it may. But as I bent to close the lid, some foolishness overcame me and I rescued one golden lock from the pile. It was soft upon my open palm, and the reflection of the firelight made it shine. Without knowing why, I placed the little clump of gold into a pouch, and then tucked into my belt.

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**I decided to write part of this story in Xena's POV, mainly because I enjoy writing first person (and am much faster at it, strangely). Please let me how you feel about this style - if you hate it, let me know :) I promise I take constructive criticism well. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for your feedback on the first chapter! I apologize for the length of time between updates. I'm trying to finish 2 or 3 chapters this week to make up for it. **

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The sky was growing light on the fringes of the world. The rain had let up several hours ago, and the horses churned up the muddied ground as they walked. If anyone were looking for two fugitives from Pella, they would not find it a difficult chase—the trail was painted plainly into the countryside, but there was nothing to be done about that. So far Gabrielle and Kyros had neither seen nor heard any sign of riders in pursuit, and that was fortunate indeed.

Gabrielle stifled a yawn and glanced over at Kyros. The boy's eyelids were drooping worse than hers and his clothing was soaked, but he hadn't uttered a single complaint all night. Gabrielle suspected that if they pressed on all day, he would fall asleep in the saddle rather than ask for a rest.

"Hey," she said softly. "You okay?"

"Hm?" Kyros looked at her with bleary, half-aware eyes. "Oh, yeah. Just tired."

"I know. Me too, but we should go a little further."

They had ridden all night. Gabrielle hadn't dared to pause until they'd put several leagues between themselves and the keep, and even now she refused to let herself look back. Whatever her relationship was with the Conqueror—adversarial, respectful, or even tentatively friendly—it didn't matter anymore. She had to concern herself with the present, not the past, and that meant keeping her eyes on the road. She and Kyros had made it out of the city, and that was certainly an achievement, but now they had to disappear. The muddy footprints weren't helping their cause any.

"Gabrielle?"

She blinked. "Yes?"

"Where are we going?"

It was a good question, and truthfully she wasn't sure of the answer. Gabrielle hadn't planned for this part. Maybe she'd been too focused on the immediate escape to worry about the aftermath, or maybe she hadn't believed they'd actually get this far. Whatever the reason, she hadn't considered where they could go once they were free. Potidaea had been an early option, but by Xena's own admission, the army had been there first. Gabrielle and Kyros needed to hide somewhere where they would be protected from the Conqueror's soldiers, and they couldn't take the risk of fleeing somewhere familiar only to be surrounded by Xena's sworn swords. The quickest way to get out of range was to ride south, but that was only a direction, not a destination.

"Gabrielle?" Kyros repeated her name and she started, realizing that she hadn't answered him.

"Somewhere safe," she replied vaguely. "Don't worry about it. Look, see that stand of trees? We can camp there for a few hours and get some sleep."

After they'd tethered the horses they discarded their wet soldier's garb in favor of the spare clothes from the saddelbag. Dry at last, the two fugitives curled up in their cloaks to rest. Kyros, worn out by the night's events, fell asleep at once. Gabrielle was tired too, but while her body was ready to collapse, her mind refused to calm, churning half-formed thoughts around like butter. Xena's pained whisper of disbelief seemed to echo in her ears, sending a chill through her body that had nothing to do with temperature. Freedom wasn't a privilege, it was a right—Gabrielle was certain of that fact. But if that were true, and if justice was so definitive, so black-and-white, then why did it feel like she'd done something wrong?

Gabrielle clutched the folds of the cloak within her fists and drew the garment snuggly around her body, as an image of the Conqueror came unbidden to her mind. Those eyes had been so cold at Gabrielle's sentencing; yet at times that gaze also held uncertainty, even deep sadness at the recollection of the past. It was easy to attribute the insensitivity to the Conqueror and the humanity to Xena, but the two personalities were not mutually exclusive. In fact they were inseparable, flawed and confused, fundamentally intertwined to form one woman—the woman whose trust Gabrielle had cultivated and then inadvertently trampled.

This understanding clutched at her heart and she squeezed her eyes shut, begging for sleep to still the chaos within her. Only when the sun had crested the western mountains did Gabrielle sleep, and if she thought waking life was murky enough, the fog of dreams was yet more nebulous.

...

_She didn't have to open her eyes to know where she was—the evidence was all around her, manipulating her senses. Gabrielle stretched her arms out until her hands were waist-high and the grass reached toward them with a gentle caress. A melody wove its way across the field, the words indistinct; but it was the voice that mattered, deep and rich as the earth itself, the song of a woman who had worked so long in the fields that she had become inseparable from them. Her children were made and born and worked on this stretch of land as shepherds, and their children in turn played among the sheep. The sun bleached their hair as it scorched the tips of the grass, and they dripped perspiration where they danced, mingling their sweat with the earth. _

_But there was a smell—not the gradual rot of loam, but something sweet, almost cloying—that hung heavy in the air around her. It wasn't the fertility of the fields. It was death, death and blood._

_Gabrielle's eyes opened and she retracted her hands in horror, clutching them against her chest. All around her were bloodless bodies. Some lay facedown in the grass, while others stared skyward with unseeing eyes. Gabrielle could feel the bile rising in her throat, and she clapped a hand to her mouth and nose in order to seal out the foul air. As she fought to keep her composure she heard a voice, full of anguish and desperation._

"_Lyceus…" _

_This wasn't Potidaea. This was Amphipolis. It was Xena's home, and Xena's nightmare. _

_Gabrielle began to run, clutching at her skirts as she tore through the field. The grass that had tickled her so gently before now raked at her skin, leaving tiny little cuts along her exposed flesh. The wail of grief rose once more, and she followed the sound of it until she found the girl slumped over her brother's body, clutching his head to her breast. This was Xena, but not the woman Gabrielle had come to know. This Xena was a thin-armed adolescent with braids in her hair and blood on her shirt. _

_Gabrielle reached out slowly, brushing her fingertips against Xena's shoulder. The young woman flinched and jerked away, snarling. Her face turned to look at Gabrielle's, the eyes fever-bright with rage—but beneath that anger were the etchings of a heartache greater than any Gabrielle had ever known, the sort of grief that can drown a person in its torrent. She was falling, plummeting into those eyes and the sea of their misery, until she could feel the coldness of it cutting at her heart. With a strangled cry Gabrielle pulled away, and found that she was trembling._

"Gabrielle?" Kyros was leaning over her, his hand curled around her shoulder. Her breath was coming short and fast, but to her great relief the air was clear, with no hint of the decay of death.

"You were dreaming." It was not a question. Gabrielle swallowed, dry-mouthed, and nodded. "Are you alright?" Beneath the dark tangle of his hair, the boy's forehead was heavily creased.

She gave him a strained smile and lifted herself onto her elbows. The images of her dream were already slipping away, and it wouldn't do to concern him with the burdens of her own conscience. "I'm fine," she assured him, shaking off the cloak and getting to her feet. "How long were we asleep?"

Kyros glanced skyward. "I'm not sure. It's late afternoon, I think."

"What?" Gabrielle leapt to her feet with a yelp of dismay, and immediately began collecting the now-dry clothes they'd laid out early that morning. "We were supposed to be on the road again by now! Why didn't you wake me?" She paused from her frantic packing long enough to glance at Kyros, who shrugged.

"You were tired," he said simply. "You needed the sleep."

Gabrielle opened her mouth to respond, and then closed it as her anger dissipated. How could she be mad at him? The delay might have cost them valuable time, but his intent was to do her a kindness.

"We need to move right away," she urged. "We can get rid of some of these supplies and things we don't need, to lighten the load."

"But you don't even know where we're going," Kyros reminded her, no doubt recalling her less-than-comforting response when he'd posed the question earlier.

"I didn't," she admitted, "but I do now."


	3. Chapter 3

(Xena's POV)

Argo slowed her pace, coming to a pause at the crest of the hill. Black sand beaches were visible to the east, and beyond them, the broad expanse of the sea. I could spy no ships on the horizon, but I imagined myself standing upon the bow of a proud, sturdy vessel, where even the waves fell away beneath my stare. There is no freedom, nor confinement, that can match the open water. It is the struggle of life at its most basic: the insignificant will of the oarsmen against the dictates of wind and weather. Why does a boat sink or sail? Some say it's determined at the whim of the gods, but I've always believed that you can make your own fate—if you have a good enough crew.

I glanced behind me and found the bulk of the cavalry just barely visible. I had ridden ahead of my troops, per Atreus's suggestion. Apparently, my habit of taking annoyance with everything was "affecting morale." I told my captain to take his morale and shove it where the sun don't shine, but I also took his advice. I'd come close to gutting one man this morning, and my restraint would only wear away as the sun rose higher. I was forced to concede that putting some distance between us would keep my blade clean, at least for now. I hadn't realized how far ahead I'd ridden until I turned and saw them in the distance. The entire column was so damned slow.

"Am I leading soldiers or tortoises?" I asked irritably. Argo flicked her tail, disinterested, and I sighed. "Leave them, then. You and I are going hunting."

I've never ridden a horse that knew my mind like Argo did. She seemed to choose our path without any direction from me. We descended the hill on the western side, heading inland toward the foothills and denser trees. If Gabrielle were hiding, it would have to be in there.

_Gabrielle._ I could put her out of my mind when I needed to, for hours at a time; yet somehow her face would return unbidden when I least expected it. It was like a part of her had burrowed way down deep beneath my skin, and I wondered how I could get her out again with hurting myself in the process. I hated the very idea that anything, any_one_ could affect me like this. I didn't do sentimentality. I didn't get attached, not anymore. So why now? Why this?

Argo and I threaded our way through the trees. I scanned the ground and the low brush, searching for a print or a pattern of trampled undergrowth, some sign of human passage. The hoof prints had made it easy to track her this far, but those prints had dried up along with the rain. I was on the verge of turning back when I noticed a place where the soil looked lighter, as though it had been overturned recently. Frowning, I dismounted and drew my sword, poking it around in the dirt. The point of the blade struck something solid, and I hastily began to scrape away the soil. At last I uncovered what was buried beneath: a discarded cuirass, stamped with my seal.

Gabrielle had been here. _How long ago? _I sheathed my sword, pondering. The overturned soil had been stamped by foot, but not wet down—that meant that she couldn't have dug these holes until after the rain stopped. This morning, then, or sometime later. Her pace was slow, and I could probably catch her before nightfall if I pressed Argo hard.

_What would I gain?_ I might recover Kyros. I might have the satisfaction of putting them both to justice for treason, for being runaways, for breaking my trust. But the rage wasn't as strong in me as it had been two nights ago, and my desire for vengeance had ebbed away into a dull, throbbing ache in my chest. There was another instinct taking over now—the one that told me to let her go.

"Damn you to tartarus," I growled.

And then I turned back.

...

"We need to move faster," I urged, lowering my wine goblet. "We're giving the Spartans too much time."

"With respect, Conqueror," began one of the captains from Phillipi, "we can't hide an entire army. The Spartans will know we're coming, regardless of how fast we approach. Maybe they know already."

"Do you take me for a fool? I'm not suggesting we wear branches on our helms and disguise ourselves as a moving forest. I'm saying we're too slow. The faster we move, the less time they have to fortify their defenses. We can't catch them unawares, but we can attack before they've had time to gather their full strength from the provinces."

"As you say, Conqueror," he conceded. At least he was smart enough not to argue. "But the mountains will be an obstacle."

"We're not crossing the mountains," I said impatiently.

"But the Amazons-"

"The Amazons won't be a problem," Atreus interrupted, speaking for the first time. "We have a treaty signed by their queen. It grants the army safe passage along the edge of Amazon lands. It will save us a fortnight of travel."

I nodded, indicating that Atreus spoke truly.

"This is good news." The Phillipian smiled slowly. "Good news indeed. I will pass your word along to the rest of my officers. We will be ready to move again at dawn."

"Good," I acknowledged. "Dismissed."

He took leave of us. I sipped my wine absently.

"You've been quiet, Atreus."

He didn't answer this statement. Instead, he lifted his eyes to mine and said, quietly, "You chose not to chase after Gabrielle."

"I don't see how that's relevant to military strategy," I replied icily.

"Not everything in life is about conquest, Xena."

I looked at him sharply. Not only did he have the audacity to use my given name, but his provocation was also clearly intentional. These words had been pondered, premeditated. I felt as though I was about to be lectured, and the notion made me angry.

"You are a commanding officer in my army. I pay you to keep my men in order, not to give your opinion on matters that don't concern you. You're out of line."

"Then let me speak to you not as your captain, but as your friend. I don't believe Gabrielle wished to hurt you."

"To _hurt_ me? She's a runaway servant, and she broke a prisoner out of confinement. She broke the law, Atreus."

"But that's not what you're upset about."

"You don't know what you're fucking talking about," I growled. We both knew his words struck too close to the truth.

"You're upset because she grew on you."

"Shut up, Captain."

"Because you like her and she disappointed you."

"Shut up!" I hurled my wine goblet at Atreus and he ducked just in time, suffering no more than a stain on his tunic. In the instant it took him to avoid the flying cup, I pulled a knife from my belt, kicked aside the wooden chest that separated us, and pressed the flat of the blade against his throat. "I swear by all the gods on Mount Olympus, Atreus. I will kill you right now if you don't _stop talking_."

"Then it's a good thing neither of us put much stock in the gods," he said quietly.

I glared at him, breathing heavily. If I expected to find fear in his eyes, I was mistaken. It was amusement that I saw, and a hint of sadness. _He pities me_, I realized, and felt disgusted.

I eased my grip on his shirt and slowly lowered the knife. "I hate her," I said forcefully.

"Truly?" His voice was maddeningly gentle.

"No," I whispered, defeated. I let go of him and turned away, my rage exhausted. I could feel the beginnings of a headache stirring in my temples, and I was tired all of a sudden, so very tired.

"What are you going to do, Xena?" The very question I'd been asking myself all day.

"What I always do," I concluded. "Fight. Make war. Forget about her."


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry I've been scarce! I love you for getting on my case the last two weeks. I tried to kick my writing butt into gear today, and I think it worked :) As always, please do let me know what you think.**

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"You shouldn't have brought him here." Ephiny glanced back at the cluster of her sisters, and her eyes settled briefly on the boy in their midst. The amazon's disapproval was evident.

"I know," Gabrielle agreed, her voice pitched low so that the women at her back wouldn't hear her. "I wouldn't have, if I had any other choice. I've brought him this far, and I promised to keep him safe."

"Then you should keep moving," Ephiny urged. "Go inland, take to the hills, and hide there."

"I can't. Kyros is exhausted, and if I push the horses any faster it'll kill them. She's the Conqueror, Ephiny. I can't outrun her. She'll gain on us, a little everyday, until it's over. This is the only chance we have."

Ephiny shifted uncomfortably, folding her arms across her chest. "Melosa's already left with the scouting party. They've gone to meet the Conqueror at the edge of our lands. There's no one to make the decision."

"There's you," Gabrielle whispered fiercely. "You're her second."

"Gabrielle!" Ephiny hissed, taking her by the shoulder and steering her further away from the scouting party. "I may be in charge while the queen is gone, but what you're asking me to do… I'd be directly defying our alliance with the Conqueror!"

"I'm asking you not to tell her that we're here, that's all. We just need somewhere to hide. It doesn't have to be in the village, we can… I don't know, climb a tree somewhere and wait for her to leave."

Despite her disapproval, a hint of a smile tugged on amazon's lips. "You're going to climb a tree?" She repeated in amusement.

Gabrielle blushed. "Well, I could if my life depended on it. And it might. I don't know what she'll do if she catches me, Eph. She threatened to kill me once just for mentioning Kyros' name. It was the angriest I've ever seen her. And now…" She trailed off. They both knew that the Conqueror's wrath was as legendary as her conquests.

Ephiny studied her from a moment, and then turned away with a growl of frustration. She began to pace. "If it was only you, there would be no problem. But the boy? My sisters will never consent to shelter him. They're already furious that you've brought him onto our lands. They want to try him as a trespasser."

"But he's only a child!" Gabrielle said indignantly.

"A child who will soon be a man. How old is he? Thirteen summers? Fourteen?"

"Twelve," she replied testily.

"Twelve. Old enough to carry a weapon, old enough to-"

"Alright! I know, okay? I know it's a lot to ask, and I don't want to put you at odds with your tribe, but this is the only chance I have left. Please, Ephiny. I don't want it to end here, not after what we've been through, not after we've made it this far."

The amazon swore under her breath, and then turned back to face Gabrielle. "Alright," she conceded. "But you stay put, and don't let that boy out of your sight for even a moment. If the Conqueror gets so much as a whiff of your presence, we're both dead."

Gabrielle threw her arms around Ephiny's shoulders and pulled her close, letting out a sigh of relief and gratitude. The amazon tensed within the circle of her embrace, before slowly sliding her arms around Gabrielle and returning the gesture.

"Thank you," Gabrielle whispered sincerely, pulling back.

"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret this?" Ephiny said with a sigh. "Let's go then—we have to get you hidden, and there isn't much time."

…...

The hut Ephiny chose for their hiding place was an old bathhouse, which now served as storage for everything from blankets to chests of arrows that needed fletching. There wasn't much space to maneuver, but it didn't matter—all they needed was somewhere to wait while the Conqueror passed through. If things went smoothly, Gabrielle and Kyros would only have to stay there for one night; then the army would move on, giving the two fugitives freedom to travel where they wished.

Kyros made no complaints, but Gabrielle could tell from his countenance that he wasn't keen on being shoved in a storage hut. Whenever she tried to make conversation with him, he shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and stared at his feet.

"What if she finds us?" He asked suddenly. His voice was so quiet that at first Gabrielle thought she'd imagined it.

"She won't," she said firmly.

"But what if she does? She'll make me go back there, won't she? She'll lock me up again. She thinks I'm dangerous."

"Kyros. You're not going back there, okay? I promise."

Gabrielle wondered, not for the first time, whether there was more to Kyros than met the eye. She understood that he could be a political threat to the Conqueror, but why not just get rid of him? When she'd mentioned him that afternoon in the garden, the look in Xena's eyes… it wasn't just fury. There was fear too, and something else that Gabrielle couldn't put a name to. _You have no idea what you've involved yourself in_, Xena had told her, and she recalled it now with an unsettled feeling in her gut.

"Gabrielle."

She lifted her eyes to the hut's entrance, where Ephiny had drawn back the flap and was watching her with a small frown.

"She'll be here soon. I'd like to speak with you first." The amazon gestured for her to follow, and Gabrielle did, relishing the final opportunity to stretch her legs. They were far from the village center, and she could see the scattered light of the torches where the forest began to thicken, rising up like a living wall in the hazy twilight.

"You can still change your mind," Ephiny told her, placing a firm but gentle hand upon Gabrielle's shoulder. "Take your horses and leave now, before she arrives."

Gabrielle shook her head. "I can't."

"There's something else that you're not telling me. Why take this risk?"

"I… I'm turning around. Going north again."

"After you've come all this way?" The amazon looked skeptical. "Is your home there?"

"Well, yes, but I'm not going home. I'm going to Amphipolis." She said this with such conviction that she surprised herself. Gabrielle had been turning the idea over in her mind for some time, but now that she'd said it aloud she knew there was no longer any choice. She _had_ to go.

"Amphipolis?" Ephiny's voice was more apprehensive than ever. "Isn't that where the Conqueror…?" Gabrielle nodded. "Hades, Gabrielle! What do you think you'll find there? What are you looking for?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I want to understand her, Eph. I know it sounds foolish, and it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me either, but I have to try. There must be people there who knew her when she was younger. Maybe they'll be willing to talk to me."

"What about Kyros?"

"I don't know. I'll take him with me, I guess."

Ephiny shook her head in disbelief. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you, Gabrielle."

"You think it's a bad idea?"

"It's not just bad, it's downright stupid." Gabrielle and the amazon stared at each other seriously for a moment, and then Ephiny's face split into a broad grin. Despite herself, Gabrielle found herself smiling as well, and then the two of them began to laugh. After a moment of indulgence, Gabrielle sobered herself once more.

"I appreciate what you've done for me Ephny, I really do. I wish I had some way to repay you."

"Just don't get killed, and I'll consider us even."

"Deal." Both women reached forward to grasp the other's forearm in acknowledgment.

* * *

**Xena's POV**

It was a quiet night. There was none of the celebratory feasting and dancing that had dominated my last visit to the Amazons, and for that I was grateful. I wouldn't have had the patience for it. Don't get me wrong, the Amazons are a proud and powerful people—but sometimes it seemed they spent more time dancing in dedication to Artemis than doing anything productive. After a few cups of something strong, it was enough to make your eyes spin inside your skull. That night, however, the mood was more subdued. I drank spiced wine, knowing as I did so that I'd probably feel like Tartarus in the morning. Sometimes, though, you just don't care.

Of my entire army, I alone was to spend the night in the village. It was a diplomatic requirement of sorts—you call in a favor, and you have to accept the hospitality that accompanies it, for the sake of formality. I would have preferred to spend the night with my own men, but here I was, sitting beside the fire and watching shadows dance on the dirt.

I unsheathed my sword and began to sharpen it. It was a habit of mine. It calmed me, gave me a sense of routine and familiarity. War, weapons, these things were my constant. It didn't matter where I was—put a blade in my hand and I would find safety in the familiar weight of it. It was like my own version of home. The rhythmic motion of dragging stone across steel brought me a sort of peace that even strong wine could not. My hosts evidently recognized my need for solitude, because they gave me a wide berth.

After a time I got to my feet, intending to seek my bed, when I realized that I hadn't been assigned one. I shrugged to myself, figuring I'd just poke my head in a few and find one that wasn't occupied. I passed by the Queen's hut and paused momentarily, listening to the voices within.

"You didn't think to tell me this earlier?" Melosa demanded, a cool fury in her tone.

"Forgive me, my Queen." It took me a moment to place the reply as the voice of her second-in-command.

"I'm disappointed in you, Ephiny. This is reckless beyond belief! Have you even considered the consequences?"

I smiled to myself. Even the proud Amazon nation was not above squabbling between the ranks, it seemed. I'd drunk far too much wine to even begin considering the source of their disagreement, nor did I particularly care about it. I moved on.

As I neared the edge of the village, I approached one of the huts. Drawing back the heavy hides that covered the entryway, I found the bed already occupied by not one, but two sleeping Amazons, and hastily made my retreat. I tried again, but this time when I pulled back the hangings I found myself staring at what could only be a mirage.

Gabrielle was turned toward me in sleep, her arms and legs curled against her body in an almost childlike pose. Her hair was cropped short, exposing the feminine curve of her cheek and the slope of her neck and shoulders. It had only been a matter of days since I'd seen her, but this Gabrielle looked older, and if possible, more beautiful.

Clearly I was more intoxicated than I'd thought.

I hesitated on the threshold, not wanting to part from this vision. I registered vaguely that this manifestation of my subconscious desire to see her—if indeed that was what inspired my hallucination—should have surprised me. It didn't. I backed out slowly, letting the coverings fall back into place. I was immediately struck by a sense of loss, and berated myself for my foolishness. I was drunk and seeing things, and that was it.

I didn't have time to ponder it further, because I'd only taken five steps when I heard a sentry call the alarm. Two amazons stepped out from the trees and shoved one of my soldiers to the ground at their feet. There were half a dozen arrows notched and aimed at him the instant his face touched the dirt.

"Conqueror!" He sputtered and tried to get to his feet, but a boot in the small of his back sent him sprawling again.

"Hold it!" I gestured for the Amazons to wait. This was no disobedient intrusion-the soldier was clearly terrified. "What is it, man?" I prompted, unmoving.

"Spartans!" He gasped. "Spartans, crossing the Pineios!"

The Pineios—two days from the Amazon Valley. I went rigid with surprise. The Spartans were taking the offensive, bringing the war to me before I could hit them first.

I glanced around at the gathering crowd of Amazons, feeling their eyes on me. They were waiting for my reaction. But there was one—Melosa's disobedient second—who was looking right past me. Ephiny's wide eyes were set on the hut at my back, the one I'd just emerged from. It was not a hallucination that I'd looked in upon, I realized; it was the real Gabrielle.


	5. Chapter 5

Whew! I hope you didn't all give up on this story! The end of my school year was kind of crazy, and then I had to adjust to working 6 days a week at a new job. I think I've got it all figured out, though. Thanks to those of you who sent me messages asking where the hades I was and why I hadn't updated. I'll try to keep my profile updated with my current writing status, so when you're curious about how long you'll be waiting for an update, you can check there. c: Thanks for reading!

* * *

**(Xena's POV)**

Bards are all liars. 'Time stood still,' they say, as if time were subject to our convenience, waiting while we struggle to put the pieces together and find our way to clarity. Time didn't stop for me; it sped on, uncaring and unforgiving as the reality of Gabrielle's nearness and the Spartan's advance descended like a blacksmith's hammer.

A dozen voices began to speak at once. I heard my name amid the clamor, but my eyes didn't know where to look. The panting soldier was getting to his feet, but the Amazons almost seemed to have forgotten him, trespasser though he was. They were shouting now, either at each other or at me, but I couldn't hold onto the words. I knew the matter of the Spartans was the most pressing, but my traitorous feet began to move, swiveling me toward the storage hut and Gabrielle.

"Conqueror." I jerked away from the hand that brushed my shoulder, stiffening instinctually as I recognized Ephiny's voice. "We must speak to the Queen. Now," she added firmly, sensing my hesitance.

In that instant I had a powerful urge to pull the dagger from my boot and stick it right between her eyes. I knew she was trying to distract me, get me away from Gabrielle. Regardless of her intentions, however, she was right—I had to talk to Melosa immediately. I nodded curtly and followed her through the gathering crowd, despite the unseen hand I felt pulling me in the other direction. My mind was still buzzing from the strong wine, but it was no longer a pleasant sensation.

Melosa was waiting expectantly in her hut, and her words were direct. "The Spartan army," she said.

"Yes."

"You'll be riding out immediately, then. At first light." This sounded uncomfortably like a command, and no one commands the Conqueror.

"No," I replied stiffly.

"We have a treaty, Xena. It grants you safe passage through our lands. It does _not_ give you leave to use them as your personal battleground!"

"This isn't personal," I said heatedly. "It's war."

"A war that you started!" Melosa shot back, her voice sharp as a polished blade.

"Fine, I started it. It doesn't matter where it starts, only where it ends. And that has to be here, otherwise the north is lost."

"You brought this upon yourself," Melosa snapped. "The north is your kingdom, and your responsibility. I won't ask my sisters to die for your folly."

I had to keep myself from roaring in frustration. _Stubborn woman_! "If the Spartans break through my line, where do you think they'll march next? They will _swarm_ this valley. They'll burn your villages, kill your warriors, and take your sisters as slaves. Then the folly will be yours, for not fighting them when you were at full strength."

Melosa turned away from me and paced the length of the room, and I knew I had her. The Amazon queen had an iron will, and she was proud—like all of her people—but she certainly wasn't stupid. She knew what I said was true. The Amazons had long lived as a nation apart, distancing themselves from the politics of every nation but their own. Their wars were waged over territorial disputes and tribal feuds, and their warriors fought in dozens, not thousands. But their strength was waning, their numbers shrinking, and their isolation was coming to an end. They shared a fate with the rest of Thessaly now, and they would have to look beyond their traditions, toward new enemies and new alliances.

"My warriors aren't suited for this battle." Melosa turned to face me again, and her expression was grim. "They aren't trained to fight in ranks, to charge in the open field. You know this."

"A fight on open ground is what the enemy wants. I have no intention of doing it their way."

She nodded her agreement. "What do you propose?"

"My main column will hold its ground until Spartans charge. They'll feign a retreat into the valley, where your warriors will be waiting. Then we'll close around them and trap them in the trees, where we have the advantage."

"A risky maneuver," Melosa murmured, but I could tell from the glint in her eyes that she was warming to the challenge. "And if they don't fall for the feint?"

"Then I guess I'll have to kick their ass the old-fashioned way." I grinned, but it was an empty smile. We both knew there would be little chance of victory if it came to that.

"I'll need to consult with my sisters."

"Fine," I agreed, "but don't take too long. We'll need to make our plans as soon as possible."

I left Melosa's hut feeling secure in the fact that the amazons would stand with me on the morrow. As I strode out of the doorway Ephiny was walking toward me, no doubt intending to speak with her queen. I grabbed her arm as she attempted to pass, my grip tight enough to bruise the flesh.

"I don't like being deceived," I growled, yanking her toward me until we were almost nose-to-nose. A lesser person might have protested, assuring me that she didn't know what I was talking about, but Ephiny was more honorable than that. She met my gaze unflinchingly, defying me with her silence.

"I know where she is," I continued. "I know you tried to hide her from me. Well, you failed."

The amazon wrenched her arm free, but didn't back down. This one, I realized, could not be intimidated.

"So what, Conqueror?" She taunted. "If you want to punish her so badly, then why are you still standing here?"

I didn't want to punish her though, not anymore. I should have been furious. I should have wanted to beat Gabrielle bloody for running away with my prisoner, and the rage should have burned through me like a forest fire. But I didn't feel any of that. I felt tension, apprehension, but no fury. Gods be good, I was getting soft! I let out another growl of frustration and shoved Ephiny aside. She didn't fight back—she just let me go.

None of the other amazons tried to stop me either, but maybe Gabrielle's presence was a surprise to them too. I paused in front of the hut, steeling myself to face the one person in the world I both dreaded and longed to face. There was something gnawing at my belly that felt uncomfortably like nerves. When I could stomach my own cowardice no longer, I thrust aside the hangings and stepped inside.

It was empty. Of humans, anyway, though it was full of weapons and cloth and tanned hides. Gabrielle was gone, fled again. Running from me. I was a fool to expect anything else; Ephiny would have warned her and sent her away immediately, and Kyros too. Disappointment flooded through me and I sank down on one of the storage chests. Fumbling with my belt, I withdrew the pouch that contained Gabrielle's salvaged hair, loosening the drawstrings so that I could peek at the fine gold strands.

It was stupid, this whole thing. I was the Conqueror, ruler of the north, and I had a war to fight. I should be calling a meeting of my captains now, not sulking in a shack because of some woman who probably hated me anyway. She _should_ hate me, if she had any wits. I crucified some of her friends, and I almost did the same to her. I _would_ have, if she hadn't been so, so damn…_ warm. _Yes, warm, that was it—the way she met my violence with words, soft words to counter the barbed ones I flung at her. Soft, but powerful in their own way.

"Xena?"

The pouch fell from my fingers. I surged to my feet, pulling the dagger from my belt to hold it beneath her chin. Gods, she was beautiful.

"Put that down, Xena," Gabrielle said softly. My hands complied; I lowered the knife, but didn't step back. I stood inches away from her, staring down at her guileless eyes and wondering how she could be so calm.

"What are you doing here?" I croaked, finding my voice at last.

"I'm not sure, really," she said.

"Where's Kyros?"

"I won't tell you."

"No?"

"No," she said firmly. "Why can't you just let him go?"

"Him," I repeated faintly, "or you?" Her breath caught then, and I found it absurdly reassuring, that proof that I could still affect her, maybe even intimidate her. "I could kill you right now," I threatened, because the knife was still in my hand.

"You won't."

"How do you know?"

"I just know, Xena."

I winced. Not many people called me by name anymore. The Conqueror commanded more respect, and the title itself was like armor—or a blade, depending on who used it. But Gabrielle was done with titles. When she said my name like that—so soft, so casual—I felt like I'd been stripped down to the skin, defenseless.

"Maybe you're wrong. Maybe I'll drag you out into the village square and build a cross for you myself, like I should have done at your sentencing. Maybe I'll stake you out for the Spartans to find, so they know what their deaths will look like."

The slap took me by surprise. My free hand flew to my cheek, and I half expected it to come away bloody. I stared at Gabrielle, open-mouthed and incredulous. Her own cheeks flushed pink.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It didn't hurt," I said gruffly.

"Sit down, let me look at it." She put a hand on my shoulder, guiding me toward one of the storage chests.

"I said I'm fine!" I protested, but I let her usher me to the seat anyway. I clenched and unclenched my jaw, just to reassure myself that the blow hadn't done any damage. When I looked up again, Gabrielle was standing there, turning my forgotten treasure over in her hands.

"What's this?" She asked, and it was my turn to feel sheepish.

"It's… nothing," I mumbled, even as she pulled it open to peer inside. I looked away, embarrassed.

"Oh, Xena," she whispered, and sat down next to me. Her fingers brushed against my cheek, commanding me with their tenderness. Swallowing hard, I turning my face to look at her.

"Why did you run?" I asked her, cursing myself for the quaver of my voice. "You promised," I added.

"You know why I did it." She looked at me sadly.

"Because of the boy? Because of Kyros? All of this for a kid you don't even know?"

"That's not it. Not the only reason, anyway. I…" she paused, as if pondering her words very carefully. "You're so cold sometimes, Xena," she said quietly. "I want to know you, to understand why, but I can't do it if you're always keeping me at arm's length."

"I told you before," I warned, "you're not going to like what you find. You can search and search, but there's nothing to absolve me of the things I've done. I am who I am, Gabrielle, and you can't change that."

"No? Then why am I still alive? If you're just the Conqueror and I'm just the slave, pick up that knife and finish it." She arched her eyebrows in challenge.

"Dammit, Gabrielle," I growled, surging to my feet. "You can't just-"

She silenced me with her own lips, brushing them against mine. Her hands cupped the sides of my face, and the press of her mouth was insistent, yet agonizingly gentle. When she broke away, I was breathless.

"I don't care, Xena." She leaned her head against my chest, and I enclosed her instinctually within the circle of my arms. "When we leave here, we'll leave together. Promise me."

"Gabrielle…"

"Promise me!"

I closed my eyes, and slid my hand up to stroke her hair. "I promise."

* * *

**author's note: I hope this makes up for the long wait :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Gabrielle**

Within the makeshift healer's hut, Gabrielle was organizing her supplies. Herbs there were, and ointments—but when the wounded were brought in, the most important thing would be clean linens. Potions were good for fever and salves for small cuts, but they could do naught to stem the flow of blood. And blood there would certainly be, before the battle was through.

The Amazon defenses had gone up in a hurry. In the space of a day the village had become a war compound, it's perimeters staked and barricaded. The Conqueror and the Queen had decided upon their battleground, and the warriors worked quickly to prepare it. Hiding holes were dug and camouflaged, caches of weaponry stashed beneath the underbrush, archery positions chosen. Gabrielle, who had spent seasons working to undermine the Conqueror's reliance upon violent methods, watched the battle plans unfold with anxiety eating at her gut. For once, she had little use for words.

"_The healer will need your help,"_ Xena had told her. _"This is where you can do the most good." _Beneath those words was another unspoken assurance: _this is where you'll be safest. _Hidden behind the walls, far away from the fighting and the danger. A part of her resented being stashed away like some precious gem, watching while the rest marched away to fight, maybe to die. But Gabrielle also knew there was truth in Xena's words—her hands weren't meant to hold a sword, but they could bathe gashes and bind wounds as well as any. In that way, at least, she could do her part.

"Gabrielle."

The voice startled her from her work, and she looked up to find Ephiny walking toward her, flanked by Atreus and-

"Amarice?" The soft intake of breath was involuntary, but the approaching trio was one of the strangest she'd ever seen. Atreus grinned, Amarice glared sullenly and folded her arms across her chest, and Ephiny wore a look of pure determination.

"Your guards," the Amazon stated without preamble.

"My what?" Gabrielle repeated blankly.

"Guards. Conqueror's orders."

Gabrielle flushed. "Well, you can tell her I don't need-"

"I'm not telling her anything," Ephiny interrupted. "I've got a battle to fight and I'd like to do it with all my limbs intact, if you take my meaning. Tell her yourself, _after_."

"But this is ridiculous! I don't need two people to-"

"The Conqueror said you should have a guard. She picked hers, and I picked mine."

Ephiny glanced from Amarice to her charge with a barely concealed look of triumph, and Gabrielle could feel the warmth in her own cheeks. When she'd last left the village, she and Amarice weren't exactly on good terms. The sting of betrayal was still fresh in the Amazon's mind then, and it appeared that time had done little to cool her resentment. It was clearly Ephiny's intention to force the two of them into close proximity so that they could sort out their differences. Gabrielle felt that this particular plan was a little more devious than clever, and she glowered at the curly-haired warrior.

Ephiny gave a knowing shrug. "Well, you have your orders," she said, addressing the two appointed guards. "Any problems?" Her eyes settled on Amarice, and even Gabrielle could read the challenge that was plain in that gaze.

The red haired Amazon glared back, lips pursed and jaw jutting slightly forward. "No," she said curtly.

"Good. Keep her safe then, or the Conqueror will have all of our heads." Ephiny gave them all a meaningful look and then turned away. Gabrielle watched the curly head disappear through the doorway, silently begging her friend not to leave her alone with the two guards; but her wordless prayers were met with reciprocal silence.

"This really isn't necessary," Gabrielle tried again. "Atreus, you're Xena's captain, you should be with her in the field."

"Her captain, aye, the captain of the _guard_. This is what I'm trained to do, lass. I'm a watchdog. I don't know why they brought you a terrier, too."

"I'm not a terrier!" Amarice snarled.

"You mean to turn back the Spartans with those little knives of yours?" Atreus flashed her a patronizing grin, his thumb tracing the hilt of his broadsword.

Amarice wrenched a dirk free from is sheath at her hip. "Try me, _captain_, and you'll see what I can do with these knives."

"Enough!" Gabrielle warned, intervening to grab the amazon's forearm and force her to lower the blade.

"Oh of course, I forgot," Amarice sneered, jerking her arm away. "You don't believe in conflict."

"Not like this." She gave an exasperated sigh. "Look, I know you don't like each other, but you're allies now and this squabbling won't get us anywhere. You're on the same side, so try and act like it. Since you're both here whether any of us like it or not, you might as well make yourselves useful. Atreus, see if they need any help with the barricade. Amarice, you can stay with me."

The soldier gave a short bow, his hand still on the sword hilt, and did as he was bid.

Gabrielle closed her eyes and pressed the heels of her palms against her eyelids. If she could keep the two of them from each other's throats, she'd consider her part a success.

...

**Xena's POV**

I used to pity the new soldiers; fresh-faced boys with smooth cheeks and the bit of fuzz they called manhood adorning their upper lip. Blades fresh from the forge looked like toys in their hands, the steel smooth and untested, with no notches to give testament to its worth. I pitied them because they were naive, and because they were frightened. I'd been fighting for so long, it seemed, that I didn't feel the fear. When the enemy came pouring over a hill, waving naked steel and snarling like feral beasts, I snarled back and felt nothing. In battle you learned to seal away your humanity and become something else, something less likely to distract you, get you killed. It was a technique all new recruits had to learn. But while buckled my armor into place and dressing in the dim lamplight before dawn I felt like one of those untrained boys, distracted by a pretty face and the promise of something utterly human.

Everything I'd learned, undone by a simple kiss.

Gabrielle would be my ruin, I knew. I shouldn't have promised her something that could never be. It just _couldn't_. And now she was a distraction.

As soon as I emerged from my tent two members of my guard flanked me. Since I had sent Atreus to Gabrielle, Pilios would serve as my temporary captain. He was a somber man, even older than his forty winters, but he dealt stronger blows than anyone I'd ever sparred with and even I was hard-pressed to parry them. He was a good man to have at your back.

"I've mobilized the garrison," Pilios said at once, and I saw that it was true.

"Let's go then," I ordered. "Bring my horse. I'll lead the column."

We were in place by the time the sun rose, poised to meet the Spartan assault. I thought they would sweep down on us eagerly, but mid-morning approached and still we saw no sign of our enemy.

"Will you treat with them, Conqueror?" Pilios queried, but I shook my head.

"They don't want treaties. They want slaughter and conquest. They want Thessaly and the North. They want my death most of all, I'm sure. I have no intention of indulging them in that."

"There." The guardsman pointed. In the distance there was a flash of sunlight glinting on metal, and the Spartan infantry marched into view. Beneath the saddle Argo stamped impatiently, and I spurred her forward to ride across the column.

"Hold!" I shouted. "Hold ranks! Hold fire! No arrows until I give the word."

My company was mounted and that gave us an advantage, but the Spartan army seemed as vast as the Ionian Sea. They had at least four men for every one of mine. I had fought against worse numbers, but rarely ones so well disciplined. Normal foot soldiers would break ranks when cavalry swept through, but not these. They would stand firm to the last man.

"Archers!" I could hear the whisper of bows pulling taught. "Fire!"

The arrows sprang forth and fell like a dark, deadly rain upon the Spartan front lines. A few men fell, pitching forward onto the earth to be run over by their brothers, but most raised their shields in time to deflect the arrows and watch them clatter harmlessly to the ground. I drew my sword and pointed it at our enemy, shouting the command to charge.

My voice was lost as others took up the call and spurred their horses into motion. Pilios and the rest of the guard pulled in close as we drew near, bracing ourselves for impact as we burst through the barrier of shields.

I wasn't conscious of much after that. There's a point at which my senses fall under the dominion of instinct rather than rational thought, and I know little beyond the slash of the sword and the jerking, cumbersome motion of the fight. Bards always sing of the smooth choreography, the dance of war, but it's not a dance—or if it is, it's a dance of skeletons, of clattering bones and halting motions weighed down by heavy steel. It's not poetry. It's blood and sweat, and death.

I was nearly unhorsed once by a soldier who slashed at my leg, aiming for the stirrups. I blocked the blow just in time, nicking my calf with my own blade as I did so. I gathered myself to thrust back but Pilios was already there, cutting the man's legs out from under him and sending him to the dirt. My captain had lost his own mount somehow.

"Conqueror," he gasped, "you must call the retreat!" I could see the blood slicking his cuirass, some of it his and some from dead men.

"To me!" I called, and my voice was hoarse. "To me!" And then, when the remainder of my men drew closer, "fall back!"

Our retreat was staged, but it wasn't quite a feint. If we stayed on that plain, it would have ended there for us. I lost sight of Pilios as we rode hard for the treeline, but two of my other guards were there closing in on either side of me.

"Those amazons better come through," one of them growled before the exertion took away his ability to speak. I shared his concern, but my mind wasn't on the amazon ambush—it was on the village, and Gabrielle.

I rode on with the Spartans at my back, leading an army of enemies toward the one person whose life had more value to me than my own.

...

**Gabrielle**

Gabrielle clutched the still-warm hand in her own, using the other to press the blood-soaked bandage into the wound on the woman's belly.

"We have to move her," Atreus said quietly. "She's gone."

"No," Gabrielle protested. "She's not. She's _not_. She just needs… here, help me put pressure on the wound. Help me!"

"It's over, Gabrielle."

"I can still help her…"

"No, lass. Not this one." The captain took Gabrielle by the arm and pulled her away from the amazon's bedside. Gabrielle choked back a sob and lifted a hand to wipe away her tears. It was covered in the dead woman's blood. Atreus lifted her as if she were a child and set her down on a vacant cot. With a clean rag and a bowl of water, he gently wiped the blood from her fingers.

"How can you stand it?" Gabrielle asked. "How can anyone stand it?" Her eyes found a woman rocking in agony on a cot, her throat so raw from screaming that she could no longer do anything more than moan in pain.

"Sometimes there's no choice," Atreus said gravely.

"I don't accept that. There has to be another way."

"Maybe," he agreed. "But if you extend your hand in peace and it's slapped away, how long will you keep trying?"

"As long as it takes," she said stubbornly.

Atreus smiled, a hollow smile that trembled in envy of the young woman's naivety. He bent his head again, rinsing the cloth and watching the water turn pink. "You remind me of my wife," he told her.

Gabrielle's mouth twitched in surprise. "I didn't know you were married," she confessed.

"I was very young, lowborn, a blacksmith's apprentice. Her father was a merchant. I used to shoe his horses for him—a pair of geldings, well-behaved animals. Sometimes he'd bring his daughter to market to help manage his stall. Her name was Antheia."

"Goddess of flowers." Gabrielle smiled, her tears momentarily overwhelmed by her love of stories.

"Yes," Atreus nodded. There was a tender reverence in his eyes that Gabrielle had never seen before. "I found myself buying wares from her with money I didn't have, just for the chance to exchange a few words, to exist in her world if only for a moment. She was courteous to everyone, quick to smile, and much smarter than I—she could read and write, and served as her father's bookkeeper. After several seasons I found the courage to ask the merchant for his daughter's hand in marriage. He laughed at me."

"How awful," Gabrielle murmured. "But you persisted?"

"Of course. I was a fool in love. Could I do anything else?" Atreus smiled. "But his laughter wasn't meant to offend. I wasn't the first to seek her hand, you see. Each time, Antheia's father would give her the choice to accept or refuse, and each time she would ask her suitor what he could offer her to make her happy. Most proposed a lavish wedding or the riches of family inheritance, but she turned them all down. If she had refused so many wealthy suitors, how could I, an apprentice boy, hope to win her hand?"

"So what did you do?"

"I went to her on the evening of the next market day with my hair and clothes still full of soot and soil from my work. The ring I placed on her finger was a clumsy thing. I'd shaped it myself, and she giggled when I slipped it on. 'What would you offer me in marriage?' she asked. 'Myself,' I told her. 'I can't promise wealth that I don't have, but I would pledge everything I am to love you.' She smiled and kissed me on the cheek, and we were betrothed."

"That's beautiful!"

"So was she." The soldier's smile faded and his face darkened. "She was killed when marauders struck our village."

"By the gods, Atreus, I'm so sorry."

"She wanted to parley with them." There was a quiet fury in his voice now. "She thought if we offered them supplies they would take the plunder and leave. But they didn't care about plunder or land or ransoms. They came to spill blood, and they did. Her blood. She wanted peace, and they killed her for it."

Gabrielle plucked the wet cloth from his fingers and cupped his hand in hers. "That's when Xena found you," she said softly, finishing the story.

"I was so full of hate, Gabrielle. I was not the man I am now. I wanted to make them pay for what they'd done to my Antheia, my flower. Xena was gathering an army to unite the Northern provinces and force the marauders off our land, and she offered me a new purpose. She gave me a reason to go on when everything else seemed lost, to use my sword for something other than raw vengeance. What she did for me… it's a debt I can never repay."

"I… I think I understand."

"Listen to me, Gabrielle: your philosophy… it's admirable. It's the kind of thing I wanted to believe in too. But when people live by a different code, you can't take it and wear it as failure. These women"—he glanced around the healer's hut—"made a choice, to fight for something they believed in. Their deaths are not your fault. Don't try to carry that weight on your shoulders. It's not your burden to bear."

Gabrielle brushed the tears from her eyes and squeezed the soldier's hand. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Out of the way!" A voice called urgently from the door of the hut, where two amazons were carrying someone inside on a makeshift stretcher. Gabrielle caught a glimpse of long dark hair, and her stomach twisted. She dropped to her feet, clutching Atreus' shoulder for support.

Amarice was beside her in an instant.

"It's the Conqueror," the amazon said gravely, and for once there was no hint of malice in her voice. "She's been hurt."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: Hi everyone! I promised I hadn't abandoned my story, and though it's been two years since the last update I hope those of you still waiting for a new chapter will forgive me. This is just a short update to get myself back in touch with the characters and into the flow of writing. I hope you'll be patient with any inconsistencies, since it's been a while for me! Thank you so much for all your kind messages over the last few months. You're very dedicated readers, and this is for you.**

* * *

Gabrielle's face went pale, and for a moment she felt as though she might faint. If not for her grasp on Atreus's shoulder she might have sunk to the floor. She closed her eyes, letting the fear sweep through her, feeling the bile rise in the back of her throat. Then, taking a deep breath, she forced herself to remain calm.

"What happened?" she asked, striding forward to stand beside the pallet upon which the Conqueror now lay.

The amazon gave a slight shrug. "Arrow to the shoulder. Caught a few sword strokes too, from the looks of it, but I only saw the arrow."

Outside the healer's hut, the war cries grew louder. The battle had arrived at the village.

"The Spartans have reached us." The amazon drew two long knives from the scabbards at her hip, twirling them expertly by their hilts. "I go to join my sisters."

Gabrielle nodded dismissively, her attention focused on Xena's limp form. Taking the Conqueror's bloody hand between her own, she glanced up at Atreus. "Will she be alright?" she asked, her voice quavering slightly.

"Her wounds need tending," the captain replied evenly, and Gabrielle wondered how he could be so calm in the midst of so much chaos. Outside the shouts grew louder, and now she could hear the ring of steel through the din, the sound of weapons clashing.

"You can do this," Atreus said, touching Gabrielle's shoulder briefly in encouragement. "Treat her as you would any soldier. You have the skill, lass."

"Will you help me?"

The faint ghost of a smile stole across the captain's grim expression. He shook his head. "I'm a soldier. I go to fight."

"You can't leave! Please, Atreus." Gabrielle got to her feet, her eyes pleading. "She told you to stay with me."

"She told me to protect you, and I will... by taking out as many of those bastards as a I can while I still draw breath." His fingers curled into a fist around the hilt of his sword, and Gabrielle was taken aback by the intensity of expression. His deceptively calm demeanor was nothing more than cold fury. She had never seen the captain like this before. A moment ago he had been smiling, his eyes shining in remembrance of his wife and the boy he used to be. Now, for the first time, Gabrielle caught a glimpse of the anger that grief had inspired in him. She saw the volatile man he had been when he first met Xena. Now, the fire in him burned on behalf of the woman who had helped him tame it; the woman who had saved his life, and whose life was now in danger.

"You care about her very much, don't you?" Gabrielle asked quietly, understanding for the first time that Xena was so much more to her soldiers than a figurehead giving commands.

The captain didn't respond. He didn't need to.

"Go, then. Fight. For her." She closed her eyes, and when she opened them Atreus was gone. "Amarice," she said softly, "I'll need clean bandages." For once, the notoriously difficult amazon did as she was told.

Gabrielle let go of Xena's hand and got to her feet. She must be strong now, as strong as the Conqueror herself. As the battle outside began in earnest, she whispered a prayer to Athena and tended to her warrior's wounds.

* * *

In the half light of dawn Xena watched the sunlight advance across the room, sending the grey shadows of morning into a full retreat. There was a dull ache in her shoulder and her limbs were so heavy she could hardly move them-which was good, because her first attempt to do so prompted pain so intense she had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out.

Gabrielle was slumped at the foot of the bed with one side of her face pressed against the the bedclothes, shaggy blonde hair falling across her eyes and hiding them from view. There was a smear of blood on her cheek, but the rest of her appearance was neat, almost disconcertingly so. Gabrielle would wash the blood off, Xena knew, and be clean again. Since the first battle bloodied her hands, she had forgotten what clean felt like. It looked surreally out of place, impossibly beautiful, like Gabrielle herself.

"Hey," Xena croaked, her throat raw and aching.

The smaller woman stirred, lifting her cheek from the bed and gazing sleepily at her charge. Then she smiled, and the sight of that grin sent a flush of warmth through the Conqueror's chest.

"Xena! You're awake!"

Gabrielle stood and reached for a nearby water jug, filling the ladle and lifting it to Xena's parched lips. The injured warrior drank greedily, spilling most of the water onto her chest and coughing up what little she managed to swallow. Still, she felt better, and the ache in her throat lessened.

"Patched me up, huh?"

Gabrielle nodded, beaming. "Atreus helped me change your bandages this morning. He said I did a good job."

"How... how long...?" The words caught in Xena's throat, making her cough again, and Gabrielle offered her another drink. This time she sipped more slowly.

"Three days," Gabrielle answered, her tone growing serious. "You had a fever. You woke up once and called me by another name. Who's Cyrene?"

Xena averted her gaze. "No one."

Gabrielle was silent for a minute, and then asked, tentatively, "don't you want to know what happened?"

"You're still here. I'm still here. I guess that means we won."

Gabrielle nodded. "We sent the Spartans retreating across the river. The amazons fought fiercely. They're holding a celebration tonight, giving thanks to Artemis for her protection."

The Conqueror snorted. "It had nothing to do with Artemis. The gods don't care whether we live or die. In Greece or in Hades, we're still mortals. We make our own victories."

"Not everyone has your courage, Xena. Some of us need faith, too."

"Some of 'us'?"

Gabrielle lowered her eyes. "I prayed for you," she said quietly.

Xena felt her cheeks grow warm. She'd never blushed in her life, but in that moment she came close. They sat in silence for a moment, and then Xena shifted her legs, wincing.

"Help me up."

"Am I still your servant?" Gabrielle raised her eyebrows, and Xena mirrored her puzzled expression. "You're still giving me orders," Gabrielle clarified, with a hint of a smile.

"You're not my servant, Gabrielle."

"Well, then: no."

"No?" The conqueror lifted one brow quizzically.

"No," Gabrielle said firmly. "You have a deep cut on your thigh. You need to avoid straining the muscle while it heals."

"It's a flesh wound," Xena said dismissively, propping herself up onto her elbows. Immediately a shock radiated out from her shoulder and she lay back, gasping and defeated. Furious, she bared her teeth, glaring at Gabrielle as if the injury were her fault. "You expect me," she growled, "to lay around on my ass for a fortnight?"

Gabrielle shrugged. "I suppose you could lay on your stomach," she suggested with a grin.

Xena let out a string of oaths against the gods of the sort that Gabrielle, in her modest upbringing, had never heard before-and hoped to never hear again. Wincing, she backed away from the bedside and went in search of something for Xena to eat.


End file.
